


Skulk

by AmnestySystem



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Piglin Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ram Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Recovery, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Trans Floris | Fundy, Trans Male Floris | Fundy, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), aka me projecting, basically fundy trying to grieve while everything else goes wrong around him, canon phil is a horrible father and i stand by that, fundy is a child and everyone forgets that, no beta we die like Mexican dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:14:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmnestySystem/pseuds/AmnestySystem
Summary: Skulk/skʌlk/noun:a group of foxes.After his father’s death, Fundy is left alone to pick up the pieces. Maybe, with a little help, it’ll be easier than he thought
Relationships: Eret & Floris | Fundy, Eret & Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, Floris | Fundy & Phil Watson, Floris | Fundy & Ranboo, Floris | Fundy & Technoblade, Floris | Fundy & TommyInnit, Floris | Fundy & WIlbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

The air was thick, clotting in his lungs and making him wheeze. Fundy rubbed a paw across his face, trying to cough against the honey that seemed to envelop his senses. His head throbbed.

( _Loud, so loud. Explosions that left his ears ringing and pulled the ground out from under him_.)

Fundy coughed again, raising a paw to smother it. He grimaced when spots of red covered his fur, gruesome decorations to the cuts and burns on his pads.

( _Glass cutting into his skin, rectangular pupils glaring at him as the dictator yelled and screamed. The thud as he collapsed to the caravan’s floor. Grief, so much grief for a man who didn’t deserve it._ )

He forced his eyes away, back to the country’s ruins. He could hear voices talking behind him, but he didn’t turn to face them. They sounded… cheerful, and he could make out Tubbo’s bright voice declaring plans to rebuild. Fundy wrapped his arms around himself. He didn’t want to rebuild. It felt disrespectful, like poison seeping through his veins. If he didn’t help them, he’d be betraying the new president too, just like he’d betrayed them all. If he did, he’d by undoing his father’s final wish.

( _“Phil, kill me!”_ )

Going home wasn’t an option. Home was full of memories, every inch of the house filled with his Wilbur’s presence. No, he couldn’t go there. It would tear him apart, take the tiny, shaking fragments of him and crush them until he was nothing but dust.

( _“You’re my son!”_ )

He stumbled away from L’Manberg, ignoring the questions that followed him. He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to leave, to get away from here and try not to remember. Gods, he couldn’t let himself remember.

( _The air was silent, two figures huddled together as they slid to the ground. They could all hear Phil’s cries, just as they all tried not to listen to the bloody, choking whispers._ )

Fundy clutched at the fabric around his shoulders. The old trench coat Wilbur had given him, just before they went into battle. He hadn’t known what to say, the warm fabric draped around him without a word from his father. He’d tried to reply, but Wilbur had just smiled, giving him that knowing glance. Fundy felt sick. Wilbur had known, hadn’t he. He’d known he wouldn’t make it out, and he’d wanted to give his son the final gift. A promise, and an apology, for destroying the nation he’d created to keep his family safe.

( _Dream’s booming laughter. It pierced his skull, a cruel mockery of the death in front of him. The masked man didn’t care, he just laughed and yelled and raised his sword to the sky._ )

The smoke invaded every ragged breath, seeping into his skin. It was disgusting, and it itched wherever it curled around him. He scratched at his arms in a vain attempt to claw it out of him.

( _Techno’s yells, light glinting off the axe in his hand. Fundy could barely hear what the piglin was saying, mind empty yet screaming with noise. Techno, the man he’d once called his uncle, pointing a crossbow in his face and snarling insults. Techno, the one he’d hidden behind when danger was near, grabbing him when he tried to run and digging sharp claws into his throat. Techno, who had taught him how to fight, tearing the armour off him and tossing it to the withers. The ache in his chest was worse than the injuries that plagued him._ )

Colour caught his eye and he looked up, pausing when he recognised the gleaming rainbows around him, shadow of a building brushing against his feet. He stumbled on, paws reaching out towards empty air.

( _Pain, so much pain. It burned through his body, the wither roaring as it flew above. His vision was foggy, and somewhere in the distance someone threw a healing potion._ )

Fundy barely knew what he was doing. He went to knock on the castle’s door but it swung open before he could, a pair of arms encircling him and pulling him into the figure’s chest. He felt numb as a hand rubbed small circles into his back.

“I’ve got you,” Eret whispered.

It was all too much. Fundy drew in a shaky breath, eyes welling with tears, and hugged them back. Eret hummed softly under their breath, drawing the fox inside and letting the door swing shut. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed further into his friend, desperately wishing that if he could just get close enough it would all fade away, that they would draw out the pain and leave him empty if he let them.

“I’m sorry.” Fundy clutched at their shirt. His claws left holes in the soft fabric, but neither could care in the moment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognised that Eret had changed out of their armour, having left the battlefield as soon as the fighting was over. His friend had never been one for crowds. “I’m so sorry, I-”

Eret held him close, tucking his head under their chin. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. You’re allowed to grieve.”

Fundy only cried harder, trembling in their grip. Eret lead him towards a place to sit, one of the many chairs and couches in the castle’s entrance. They sat carefully, pulling Fundy into their lap. He clung to them as they hummed.

“I don’t know what to do,” Fundy whimpered. “I… he was my _father_. What will I do without him?”

Eret sighed softly. “I don’t know. I wish I did, but… I don’t.”

They continued to hum as Fundy cried. He knew the song Eret was singing, one of Wilbur’s old favourites. His father had played it often, closing his eyes and singing along every time. He’d looked almost godly, shining with sunlight as the music surrounded him. The thought made pain shoot through Fundy’s chest, knowing he’d never see it again. If he cried harder, no one but him and Eret had to know.

* * *

Fundy wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up. Sunlight streamed through the windows, flickering rainbows falling over him from the beacons outside. His mouth felt dry, face raw from tears. The couch underneath him was soft and well-worn. Eret didn’t have many guests, but those who visited did so often, and so everything in the castle had been used and loved time and time again. Fundy sat up slowly, head still spinning.

“Hey,” Eret murmured. They sat on a chair nearby, cloak wrapped around their shoulders and a steaming mug in their hands.

Fundy cleared his throat. “Hey.”

“Sleep alright?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I, uh, is it okay if I stay here for a while?” The thought of going home brought the pain back tenfold and he pushed it from his mind.

Eret’s smile was sad. “Of course, you can stay as long as you like. I’ll set up a room for you.”

“Thanks.”

A few moments passed in silence, the air brimming with unspoken words.

“I miss him too,” Eret whispered eventually. “We didn’t talk much, not after… well, everything. But we were close once, and I always cared about him.”

“He cared about you too.” Memories resurfaced, threaded and tinged with grief. Wilbur, Wilbur, _Wilbur_. “Even after the betrayal, he told me stories about you. He was always so happy when he… you meant a lot to him, Eret. He never forgot that.”

Eret nodded, eyes glossy. They opened their mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, they reached out a hand, taking Fundy’s and giving him a small smile. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to smile back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c!wilbur may have been a manipulative little bitch boy, but this is my story now and I say he was a good father
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: suicidal thoughts, self harm, emotional breakdowns. This chapter isn’t particularly vital for the plot, so if you want to skip it there’s a summary in the end notes.

Eret was too kind. Fundy wanted to throw up, to tear at the pieces of himself until he unravelled at the seams and fell into bloody ribbons. Maybe then… maybe it would be beautiful. Every soft touch, every worried glance, it was all so much like _him_. They didn’t mean to, they never did, but the hurricane of memories that swirled around them was filled with rusted shrapnel, and Fundy couldn’t stand it anymore.

He felt bad for running away. It made his heart twist to hear Eret’s confused calling behind him, the few hesitant steps they took in pursuit before stopping, face creased with concern, hand resting on the doorframe. But he couldn’t stay, he couldn’t keep being reminded of… well, of everything. Of all the things he couldn’t put into words, no matter how hard he tried.

L’Manberg drifted past him in a haze, the hastily-covered crater still releasing faint curls of smoke into the air. It made his chest burn just being near it. No one paid him much notice, a fact he was grateful for. They expected him to be upset, but they didn’t care about Wilbur. They’d seen him as a madman, an inhuman beast driven to mania, having blown up his prized creation in a final act of vengeance. They’d only seen the confusion, the bruised knuckles and dark circles shadowing haunted eyes. The looks sent Fundy’s way weren’t ones of sympathy, but of pity, for the poor child who finally lost a father not worth having.

They were wrong. He knew it, they didn’t see what he saw. They didn’t see the way Wilbur held his son to his chest and wept at the edge of an empty river. They didn’t see the proud laughter whenever he caught his family up to their usual antics, whether it be Tommy’s destruction or Fundy’s thievery. They didn’t see the grief that strung his father like a puppet, sculpted joints that moved with bone-deep pain, torturously clear in the man’s eyes as he forced himself to carry on, to keep fighting. Not for himself, but for _them_ , for his family. Stupid Wilbur, he was a force to be reckoned with. His loyalty had been his downfall. Fundy tried to tell himself the feeling that tore at him was anger.

He stumbled and fell. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognised the coarse sand of the beach, but that thought was swept away by the tide of feelings that wrecked him.

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. He deserved his father, he deserved to be happy, why did things turn out like this? Was it fate, some cosmic karma for sins even he was unaware of? Punishment for an existence he never controlled?

Fundy’s jaw stretched in a wordless shriek. Pain lanced through his skin as his claws tore into it, iron grip making dark blood matt his fur. The hurt was a welcome distraction from the fierce pain inside him, pouring out through the gashes, leaving him empty and tired. Teeth snapping shut, he slumped back. He tried helplessly to breathe. Salty tears splashed onto the cuts, stinging where they landed.

Time passed, though how much he had no idea. It was colder. Clouds had begun to cover the sky, thick and gray, blotting out the sun. Fundy stayed slumped on the beach, but a faint sound made him finally lift his head, turning slightly to see what it was. He couldn’t find the energy to be curious, but Eret would kill him if he let a mob sneak up on him. A small voice wondered if that would be so bad.

A flash of green and Fundy’s heart clenched. Blond hair, tied back in a short ponytail, loose threads framing bright blue eyes. A thick cloak hiding shattered wings. Fundy was painfully aware of the state he was in himself. He knew he must look awful, bloodstained fur, frayed trench coat, dark tear streaks down his face and muzzle. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He watched the figure, trying to smother the spark of hope that lit up at the first sight of the man. A hope that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he felt, maybe he still had a family, however distant, that he could rely on. He’d never met any of his relatives; his family wasn’t one of blood. But maybe now he had a chance to get to know them, to know that there were others who understood him. Sure, the man had hurt him, had hurt his father, but they were family, they could figure things out, they could be okay.

Phil turned, and met his eyes. There was a moment, a breath, where both were silent. Then Phil’s grip tightened on the compass in his hand and he turned away, quiet footsteps seeming to echo as he faded from sight. The tiny spark of hope went dull, and as soon as the cloaked man was out of earshot, Fundy leaned his head back and _screamed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN THIS CHAPTER: Fundy has a breakdown, runs away from Eret and ends up on a beach. He thinks about how everyone hated Wilbur and thought he was insane, even though Wilbur was kind and only acted out because he was trying to protect his family. Fundy calms down and is tired, so stays there for a while. Phil walks by, and they make eye contact for a moment, where Fundy feels hopeful that maybe he can finally have a family again. Then Phil walks away and Fundy's breakdown picks up again. End of chapter.
> 
> I should specify that I don’t hate c!phil, and when talking about the smp you should keep in mind that Wilbur is phil’s only child, not tommy or techno, but it’s weird how badly he treats fundy, his grandson, despite apparently loving Wilbur, so it’s interesting to take that and run with it


End file.
